


On the Other Side of the Wall

by DesireeArmfeldt, orphan_account



Series: Inclinations [13]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Asexuality, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Pining, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's happening on Fraser's side of the bedroom wall while Ray is getting it off with a fantasy version of Helena Bohnam Carter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Other Side of the Wall

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dancing in the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/454252) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> One of the pleasures of following Sock_Marionette's ongoing Inclinations series is geeking with her about her thought process and where she imagines the series going. This story was originally going to be a comment on the latest installment, and then I thought, what the heck, I'll just go ahead and write it. :)
> 
> Set in the same universe as my Parallel Inclinations series (which is to say, the universe of Sock_Marionette's Inclinations series).
> 
> (The story itself is not actually co-authored; AO3 seems to have tagged it that way because the *series* is listed as co-authored.)

Through the bedroom wall, Fraser hears Ray moan.

 

Ray is masturbating again.  He does so with some regularity—a few times a week, although recently the frequency has increased.  Fraser never lets Ray know that he can hear Ray on these occasions, and usually he ignores the sounds of Ray’s self-gratification, but sometimes. . .and more frequently than he used to. . .Fraser deliberately listens.

 

Some people, he knows, are sexually aroused by the sound of others’ arousal.  Most, he imagines, would be aroused by hearing the person they are in love with stimulate himself to orgasm.  But Fraser is not like most people.  Ray’s desperate noises provoke a range of emotions in him: tenderness, curiosity, longing, shame, frustration, sorrow, protectiveness, admiration. . .But not lust.

 

Fraser tries to imagine what Ray looks like right now, but he has little experience from which to extrapolate.  All he can think of are stock phrases: _flushed with desire, chest heaving, biting his lip. . ._ They conjure up no specific image of what _Ray_ might look like as his arousal mounts, his own hand on his swollen penis driving his body’s response.  The few images Fraser does have from first-hand experience of what another person looks like having sex, he refuses to even contemplate.  Not in this context.  Ray is as unlike Victoria as it is possible to be and the thought that they might be somehow similar in _this_ way is repugnant.

 

Ray’s moans are coming louder and more often.  Fraser passes a hand over the crotch of his longjohns, but finds, as he knew he would, that his penis lies soft and unresponsive.  He gives it an experimental squeeze, two, then abandons the pointless experiment.

 

Two weeks ago, heady with astonished relief at Ray’s acceptance of his asexuality (and with the effects of Jack Daniels), Fraser made Ray an offer that Ray, much to his surprise, did not refuse.  (Would he have made the offer if he had expected Ray to accept?  He thinks so; but he can’t be sure.) 

 

_If every once in a blue moon you get a physical urge, and you want to experiment with me, you just knock on that wall._

 

But the deal has conditions.  Ray doesn’t want one-sided sexual _service_ from Fraser.  And Ray surely doesn’t want a dispassionate audience, either.  No: Ray will accept what Fraser can offer, but that has to include physical arousal, if Fraser is to be allowed access to the part of Ray that eludes him.  The part that desires him—and if it were sexual desire alone, Fraser would be repelled, or at best bored, but he knows that the physical side of Ray’s love for him is bound up with the rest of it and can’t be surgically separated, though Ray does his best to sequester it so that it will not upset the balance of their relationship.

 

Fraser desires Ray, in many ways.  Most of his desires, he is blessed in being able to gratify.  But since his impulsive offer and Ray’s almost casual response, Fraser’s mind has been in thrall to the desire to see what Ray’s face looks like when he climaxes.  To see that look on Ray’s face while Ray is looking at _him._

 

Stupid, dangerous, almost certainly a bad idea in the long run.  And a moot point, unless and until Fraser is in a position to fulfill his side of the bargain and present himself to Ray in a state of physical arousal.

 

Perhaps, in this instance (and contrary to popular wisdom) Fraser’s penis is wiser than his heart. 

 

On the other side of the wall, Ray cries out.  One could almost mistake it for a cry of pain.  (Agony and ecstasy, their symptoms can be so similar.  Worlds apart, yet separated by such a very thin wall.  Or so Fraser imagines, having personal experience with only one of the two.)

 

Even though he knows better, his instincts cry out to run to Ray’s side and protect him, to try to heal his injury.  He could do so, Fraser supposes.  Burst into Ray’s bedroom and inquire if he’s hurt.  Pretend to have mistaken. . .But no.  Ray wouldn’t believe him for an instant.  Ray would be angry, humiliated, and worst of all, hurt.  Even if he didn’t think Fraser were cruelly mocking him, all such a charade would do would be to underscore just how much Fraser fails to understand some of Ray’s deepest feelings.

 

“God, Fraser, Fraser.” 

 

Ray’s voice is soft behind the wall, but Fraser can hear him as clearly as if they were lying in the same bed.  If Fraser were the man Ray wants him to be, needs him to be, surely his penis would swell at the sound of his name on Ray’s lips at the moment of orgasm.  Instead, it’s only Fraser’s heart that feels ready to burst.  The grief in Ray’s voice pierces Fraser to the core.

 

In any other circumstance, Fraser could go to Ray and offer him comfort, but this pain is entirely Fraser’s own doing, and what would heal it, he cannot provide.  So he lies still, hands folded over his stomach, listening to the rustle of Ray’s bedclothes and the creak of his bed as Ray settles in for sleep.

 

It’s foolish and will only make things worse, but Fraser is weak enough to close his eyes and indulge in a fantasy.  (What fantasy did Ray conjure for himself just now, Fraser wonders, but no, Ray’s sexual fantasies are not Fraser’s even to speculate about.)  Fraser imagines Ray, sated and wearing a smile subtly different from the thousand variations Fraser is familiar with, climbing into Fraser’s bed.  He’s cleaned himself up, so that Fraser can only smell faint lingering traces of sweat and semen on his body.  Relaxed and content, Ray cuddles up against Fraser’s back, cradles Fraser in his arms, and holds him until they both fall asleep.

 

Fortunately, Ray’s hearing is nowhere near as acute as Fraser’s own.  Ray will not be able to hear Fraser’s ragged breath as he buries his face in his own pillow and weeps.


End file.
